


I'm Not in Love, so Don't Forget It

by kazzaroo



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Featuring: An Eventual Appearance By Rocket's Softer Side, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Interspecies Relationships, Romance, Slow Burn, Stowaways, The Milano Is Still A Space Jalopy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazzaroo/pseuds/kazzaroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rocket becomes unexpectedly attached to an alien stowaway, developing feelings for her that he has no clue how to deal with. So he denies them. He tells himself that he's a fighter, not a lover. Until now, he's never considered being both.<br/> </p><p>  <strong>On hiatus.</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rocket was typically the one to do repairs on the _Milano_. Mostly because the rest of them didn't have a clue, besides Groot. Who knows how Quill had managed it for so many years by himself. Oh, yeah; that's right. He'd just let things go to shit and hoped he'd eventually crash-land somewhere with a mechanic that would work on the cheap-or-nothing.

That night, he'd been forced awake by Drax roaring and swearing oaths in his sleep from the next bunk over. The meathead hadn't let up for at least another hour, so Rocket had resigned himself to consciousness and, out of habit, had fallen to tinkering. He'd made a couple tweaks to the flight control panel. Then he'd corrected a leak in one of the backup fuel tanks, which hadn't even been a pressing issue because they stayed empty more often than not. He'd also switched around a few wires that allowed Quill's antique stereo system to project into the different areas of the ship—the Terran was some hippie freak who apparently needed mood music wherever he wandered. In a move he'd been meaning to make for a while, Rocket had rerouted them away from the armory, which was where he preferred to sleep and generally hide out.

'The armory' was really just an octagonal area in the back that housed a few weapons and a couple lockers of gear, but it's where he took up most of his time, making modifications to his pistols or fine tuning whatever explosive he currently had in the works. He'd even cleared out some random junk from under a low counter and formed himself a nest out of a pile of old skin mags—he'd unearthed them in a corner and figured Quill would bless him anyway for getting them out of view of Gamora—and an armful of leaves that Groot had contributed. A shop rag draped over the counter and weighted down by a crate served as a privacy curtain. He figured he deserved his space, like anyone else. He needed room to breathe, away from his teammates, and he wasn't going to have Quill's human obsessions bombarding his remaining sanity.

Sometime in the early AM, Groot came looking for him, bending lithely under the doorframe. He came over to sit on one half of a bench that wasn't littered with spare parts.

"I...am...Groot?" The tree-being tilted his head, trying to focus on Rocket with eyes still heavy-lidded with slumber.

"No, I couldn't sleep either, what d'you think? Big butch's got lungs the size of a Nocerean's."

Groot nodded drowsily and bent to chew on a tender leaf sprouting from his forearm.

"But hey, your timing's beautiful. I could use a lift to install this panel on the side exit airlock."

Groot nodded again and stood gracefully. He was good company, always had been, not to mention perfect help for jobs where the anthropomorph needed a boost. And despite appearances he was also an engineering genius, smart enough to easily improve on Rocket's handiwork. But he deferred to the smaller creature with most projects because he knew that dabbling with fuses and wires was what kept Rocket from going stir-crazy between gunfights. Rocket had to admit, Groot was often obnoxiously insightful. They understood each other, probably as much as anyone could.

The side exit was outlined by a row of red lights that glowed dimly, while additional bulbs flush with the floor illuminated the corridor, giving the pair light enough to work by. Groot extended a long arm and let Rocket climb it to perch on his shoulder. Settling in, he situated his tool belt and pulled on a child-sized pair of thick rubber gloves, wiping the dust off of the old panel. He had to squint to read the fine print.

"Ugh, no wonder we're not getting a decent seal, look at this maintenance date. That's nine years ago, last month! Damn it, Quill," he muttered.

"I _am_ Groot."

"Stop taking up for him, he's a punk. Sounds like something's screwing with the filters too." He paused for several seconds. "Hear that?"

Beyond the door, the continuous circulation of airflow through the vents echoed in the chamber. The sound popped oddly every so often.

Groot confirmed that he could hear it too.

"Alright, add it to the list, I guess. New filters." Rocket began entering the code to disengage the circuit that fed the panel.

"Talk about a _flight risk_ ," he continued under his breath. "All I can tell you is, _I'm_ sure as hell not paying to replace any of this outdated crap, and when Quill asks me to chip in, which he will, I'll tell him he can take his space-dump's worth of a ship and shove it right back up his—"

With a resounding click the old panel popped out a few centimeters from the wall. They listened to the fading whir as the power drained away. When it was safe to remove, Groot pulled it out further so that Rocket could disconnect the wires, growing from the back like strands of multicolored hair.

"I mean, there's morons, then there's _morons,_ you feel me? And he is for certain a moron. Have you ever in your life seen such a..."

Patiently, Groot let him complain while the wires were clipped and the panel fully detached. Then Rocket laced his fingers, turning his wrists and pressing outwards until his knuckles popped. "Well I feel a little better, slightly. Barely. Whatever. Anyway, while we got this all unhooked, we might as well take a look at the vents. See what's happening."

With the circuit still disconnected, the door had to be pulled open manually. Groot unlatched the door's emergency handle, grasping it with broad hands and giving it a firm tug. The seal released in a hiss. They moved forward, halfway through the doorframe.

"Okay, what do we got... We'll be lucky if it's just a loose—"

Before Groot could fully enter the chamber, something rapidly twisted around from the shadows to the right, a dark form that landed in a low crouch at their feet.

The pair stood there for a second in stupefaction.

It was only half as tall as Groot, but had Rocket by at least a head. Dusky clothes, dark fabric masking its face. Pale, strangely luminous hands. Poised to spring.

In another split second Rocket was pushing off from Groot's shoulder. He launched himself towards the figure, teeth bared. There was a brief flash of silver, as it flung something in an arc that curved around his right side. Whatever it was, it missed him by a meter.

Crap shot.

His paws were outstretched to attack, only a breath from its chest, when he felt something connect to the center of his spine with a metallic click.

The immense surge of electricity that immediately shot through him was enough to halt him mid-air. It threw his body off course and sent him rolling against the wall in a spastic dance that bound his jaws together and flung his limbs uncontrollably at odd angles.

Seizing the moment, the intruder bolted forward. It side-stepped Groot's grasping hands to duck into a ball, tuck-rolling between his legs and coming up on the other side into a sprint down the corridor.

Groot spun around. With an angry bellow he flung both arms out and sent a cluster of thin vines hurtling forward. On impact, they wrapped around its retreating ankles, pulling taut and sending it sprawling. For a moment Groot let it huff in frustration and struggle impotently against the ropes that had by now grown thick and curled up to its knees, then began retracting them to reel the figure back in.

From the airlock chamber came a series of feral growls and curses. Rocket stumbled out, breathing hard, clutching at his back with one paw and holding the other gingerly out to the side. Between two rubber-gloved fingers he clenched a tiny metal disk that was sparking from a gash he'd reamed open while ripping it off of him.

With a final heave, Groot towed the stranger into his hand, which he then proceeded to close around its neck. Almost without effort he hefted it to its feet and pressed it against the wall, lifting until its toes could barely make contact with the floor. Its fingers—again, such unusual skin—clutched at his oversized fist. But he stared impassively, intently. He would wait for Rocket to pass judgment.

As if aftershocks were forcing his steps out of sync with his intentions, Rocket limped towards them in a seizured, disconnected way. His eyes, however, were riveted on his attacker. And livid. Stumbling to Groot's ankles, he allowed his teammate to give him a hand up to perch at Groot's hip, which set him at eye-level with their stowaway. Rocket placed a paw on one side of its head and raised the totaled disk with the other.

"What. The hell. Was _that_." With a violent flick of the wrist, he flung the metal to the ground at their feet. Then his hand flashed out and yanked the fabric off of its head.

Dark curls spilled down around skin tawny from an alien sun. The feminine features were marked over with designs overlaying the flesh like lace; marks which, like the ones on her hands, were curiously...glowing. Lucent. A pair of decidedly violet eyes stared back at Rocket warily.

"I am _Groot._ "

"I can see it's a dame, genius." A dame who had just tried to electrocute him and whose gaze now lacked appropriate terror, considering the barely restrained violence mounting within him.

"Never seen...one...up close, boys?" Her voice came out low and raspy around Groot's grip.

Was that a _smirk_? Did she have a death wish?

Rocket clenched his jaw hard, sending the muscles rippling over his cheeks. Added to the buzz from all the electrical surges coursing through his system, his building fury made him feel like he might combust at any second.

_"What are you doing on board this ship."_

"...Hitching a ride."

"This ain't a taxi," he snarled.

"I noticed," she wheezed. "Taxis typically...have better airlocks."

Rocket slammed his other hand into the wall beside her head, fencing it in between his arms. Their noses were inches apart, his twitching with rage. "Good news is, the seals can be trashed and still work in reverse. Door might not close right. _But it'll open_."

"Think I'll...just hang out here for...a while."

"You can _hang out there,_ " he pointed behind him at the exit, "for as long as you want." Rocket jumped to the floor with a pained exhale. "Groot," he managed through his teeth. "Toss her."

Her gaze darted to Groot, as his drifted uncertainly to Rocket.

"Toss her. Now."

"I...am Gr—"

"Damn it, Groot, _get her off this ship!"_

As Groot moved forward uncertainly, she resumed fighting against the vines. She clawed at Groot's hand around her throat, screaming hoarsely while he dragged her back towards the exit. Groot was obviously conflicted. Rocket didn't care. His friend could take those misgivings and petrify them—this bitch was getting out of his sight.

Then, abruptly, the echo of pounding footsteps mingled with all the shouts and the grunts. Gamora tilted into the corridor at full speed, sword drawn.

"What's going on? Groot? Rocket?"

Fantastic. _Now_ they came running.

A groggy Quill followed on her heels, with Drax soon after, looking disoriented.

"Where did _she_ come from?" Quill visibly shook himself awake at the sight of the intruder.

"Doesn't matter," Rocket snapped. "She's leaving."

"We're in deep space!" Gamora said.

_"Exactly."_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Quill waved his hands in front of him. "Nobody's leaving."

Oh, hell. _Star-Lord_  was about to get all lofty and  _objective,_ Rocket could feel it.

Quill stepped closer to the woman, his eyes widening with interest. "You're lit up like a Christmas tree," he mused under his breath.

"Lit _me_ up like one," Rocket spat.

"She looks nothing like a tree," Drax knitted his brows. "She has no foliage."

Gamora was now scrutinizing the strange markings. And all the tree comments just had Groot more confused and shifting from foot to foot uneasily.

Quill turned to him. "Bring her to the common area." He then made deliberate eye contact with Rocket, who was glaring murderously between him and the stranger.

"Time for a family meeting."

 

* * *

 

After Groot secured their captive to a chair at one end of the ovular table, the others gathered around, taking a seat or finding something to lean against. Rocket was perched off to one side, fuming at the lot of them, but mostly at _her._

In the increased light, her markings were much subtler. Her skin was still radiant, but more as if with a healthy glow; it no longer appeared to be emitting light of its own. She had also stopped struggling against the vines binding her to the chair and sat composedly, absently chewing on the inside of her mouth. She seemed to have resigned herself to whatever was coming.

An awkward silence settled over the room as everyone gawked at her and waited for their leader to make the first move.

Finally Quill cleared his throat. "I'm Peter Quill. Or you might know me as Star-Lord. Captain of the  _Milano_ : the sexiest ship in the galaxy...and consequently, the one you illegally boarded, so. I've got a few questions for you."

She tilted her head to one side, giving him a suspicious once-over. "That seems fair."

Rocket spat into a corner.

"Yeah, yes it does." Quill stared pointedly at him. "...Okay. Fantastic." He rubbed his palms together. "So for starters, why are you on my ship?"

"As I've already told your...comrade," she shot a glance at Rocket, "I needed a lift. I was trying to get from A to B, that's it."

" _That's it_ my ass. I call attacking without cause a hell of lot more than—"

"Can it, Rocket," lifting a hand to stop him. "You'll get your chance." Quill returned to her. "You attacked him?"

"After he attacked me. That's cause enough."

Rocket snorted, loading the sound with as much resentment as possible. Quill raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue.

"I hadn't expected any interaction."

Still he waited.

She sighed impatiently and lifted a shoulder. "I was going to leave the airlock the same way I came in, just as soon as you landed. Then he and this plant creature opened the inner door..." Her other shoulder joined the first. "I preferred not to wait to see if they intended any harm or not." Evenly, she returned Rocket's piercing scowl with one of her own. "It seems they did."

"You're not supposed to _be here!_ Hello, is nobody getting that? And yeah, sure we did, sure we meant harm. After her little devil-disk did murder on some of my body parts, natural and otherwise. And now she gets to talk over me and I'm not allowed to kick her out? That's jacked up, Quill, and you know it."

"What devil-disk?" Drax frowned.

In an instant Rocket was across the table and looming over their captive. She released an indignant hiss as he frisked her without ceremony and came up with a small inventory, including several more of the disks housed in a clear cylinder. "These."

She peered up at him, suddenly and inexplicably serene, tilting her head to the side again in what Rocket had decided was an analytical mannerism of hers. He also decided it aggravated him. That, and her weirdly colored irises. And everything else about her.

"What are they?" Quill said.

She was still fixed on Rocket, chewing on the inside of her mouth. " _Electric_."

That set a deep growl brewing in his chest, threatening to rip out of him. He could feel his upper lip curling.

Then, maintaining eye contact, she stopped chewing and let her lips hug her tongue as it gently protruded through them, coated in something matte and light blue, then retracted. Her cheeks swelled slightly with a breath as she blew steadily into the blue pocket she'd created, inflating it until it was a bubble that obscured a third of her face. She sucked rapidly back in, bursting it with a resounding _POP_ _!_

The dead silence that followed was eventually broken by Quill's gaping, _"What the hell."_

Everyone held bemused expressions. Drax had half-risen, gripping his knives as if she was secreting some kind of oral weapon.

"Is that... _bubble_ _gum_?" Quill's face was a mix between hope, disbelief, and something else Rocket couldn't place. It almost looked like he was in pain.

She let her confusion show.

"That's blue raspberry Double Bubble, or I never blew 98% of my allowances on refined sugar," he insisted. "Come on, it is, isn't it?"

"I don't understand you," she squinted, "It's a viscous substance that's often chewed for pleasure. Different colors, flavors." She stuck her tongue out again, blue once more. "This one is kivari-pollen." She blew another bubble, making Rocket's nerves twitch with resentment. The sound echoed through the common area, bouncing off of all the metal.

It was then that it hit him: _that_ was the sound he and Groot had heard inside the airlock. Not something in the vents... But frickin _Double Bubble._

"I've been chewing it lately to stave off hunger pains. Not that it's worked. But it gives my mouth something to do."

Rocket could have sworn Quill's pupils dilated at that last comment. Dirty bastard. He'd better watch it if he didn't want Gamora to end up knifing him in his sleep over this tramp.

"Too much talking, not enough answers," Drax crossed his arms. "We know why you are here. Now tell us who you are."

"Okay, yeah." Quill seemed to snap out it, if only for the moment. "Good call. Who are you?"

She grew quiet, considering each of them in turn. Then she shrugged slightly as if conceding this one more couldn't hurt much at this point.

"Lux. I'm called Lux."

"Where did you come from?"

She hesitated. "I've been traveling for a while. You aren't nearly the first ship on which I've received...unsanctioned transport."

Drax and Rocket grunted in unison.

"It's not important where I—"

"She's a _lumin_."

All heads swiveled to Gamora in mild surprise. They realized she'd been quiet since they'd sat down, her gaze fixed on Lux's face, her hands. Studying her.

"She's from Pyluura."

Lux locked eyes with her, turning cagey and silent.

"I've been trying to place it. I knew her kind looked familiar; the markings are so distinctive. They're a race known colloquially as _lumins,_ because of obvious reasons. The Pyluurans are tattooed with a type of phosphorus." Her gaze opened somewhat in curiosity. "It's literally living ink."

Eventually Lux inclined her head in acknowledgement of the undeniable. "It's traditional. When we come of age."

"They are like mine," Drax said, gazing down at his chest and arms, decorated with angry red patterns. "Except mine do not store or emit light. And they are scars."

Again, with the head tilt. "That's all a tattoo is. A scar. One you choose, typically, but like ordinary scars I wasn't permitted to choose mine."

"Neither was I." Drax regarded her quietly before muttering, "I find your markings to be tasteful."

At that, the corners of Lux's mouth softened. She bowed ever so slightly at the neck.

"This is a joke!" Rocket erupted. "We're supposed to be having a trial because _she,_ " thrusting an accusing finger, "trespassed, tried to barbeque me with some mini death-frisbee, and now she's trying to play it off! Look at her. She's got you all distracted by the frickin... _glowworm effect_."

"Listen, we can't do anything with her now," Quill said. "She's stuck here until we dock."

Rocket started to argue, but again, Quill cut him off.

"We're _not_ chucking her out the airlock. Look, she's bound. We've taken her weapons. She's helpless. We'll just keep her tied up until the next stop, then figure something out."

"This is so gorgeous I can't believe it's happening."

"Yeah, well then you'll like this next part: _you_ get to guard her. You and Groot."

Rocket barked out a laugh.

"You know I hate it when you fake-laugh."

" _I'm not_. Because it's genuinely funny that you want to keep her alive so bad, but you stick her with _me._ I'm getting mixed messages here, Quill."

He ran a hand over his beard. "You let her in."

_"She let herself in."_

"And now she's in. So why don't you and Groot take her back to the armory and tie her up and nobody do anything stupid."

"Too late for that."

"It's usually too late for that," Gamora said, rising. "Is this meeting over? I'd like to try to get a few more hours of sleep."

Quill nodded and stood as well, approaching the pile of Lux's belongings on the table to paw through it. He extracted a package wrapped in torn cellophane and opened it to count how many pieces of gum remained, trying to seem nonchalant. Lux narrowed her eyes at him.

As Groot passed by, Quill backhanded him on the arm. "Seriously, make sure no one kills anyone," he said in an undertone.

"Yeah Groot, cause the moral high ground don't suit me." Rocket refused to look at Lux, or Quill. "Just keep her away from me."

 

* * *

 

The noise bounced erratically around the armory as Rocket slung off his tool belt and jabbed a finger toward the far corner of the room, away from the weapons and opposite his counter. "Put her over there."

Lux didn't try anything as Groot wound vines around her ankles and wrists again, intentionally softer vines this time which would allow her to sleep as comfortably as possible under the circumstances. Then to Rocket's disapproval, he wandered over to one of the lockers and rooted around, coming up with a dingy square of fabric. Rocket huffed an irritated breath out his nose and ignored them.

Cautiously, Groot approached her again, slowly offering her the blanket.

"I...am...Groot."

Rocket rolled his eyes. Big pushover. He even sounded _nervous_.

Just as slowly, Lux took it, tracking the flow of hesitance and sadness on his odd features that puzzled her. "I remember. Plant, vines. You were going to cast me into endless space. How could I forget."

"I...am Groot..."

She tipped her head to one side at him. "So you said."

Groot seemed about to try again, but Rocket spun around, effectively cutting him off.

"Enough. _You_. Leave him be."

"Why does he repeat the same—"

" _He ain't._ You're the one with a hearing problem, now shut up. Stop asking stupid questions."

Groot looked at her apologetically and began backing away.

"These don't chafe like the last ones," she said, referencing the vines by bending at the wrists and flexing her fingers. At that, his expression lifted somewhat, and he retreated to another corner and curled up, smaller than Lux would've thought possible for such a towering creature. With a last contemplative glance at him, she spread out the blanket as best she could and tried to find a tolerable position.

Roughly, Rocket flicked off the light, swept aside the curtain covering his nest and crawled inside, drawing it immediately closed behind him.

His wrath towards Lux—toward  _the lumin—_ had cooled only infinitesimally throughout their interactions, if at all. It was being constantly rekindled by the nagging pain throughout his entire body from the untold volts of electricity that had passed through him. Whatever those disks were, they were wicked little monsters. Kind of ironic, since he'd been called the same thing on occasion.

He scooted around, his back to the curtain, trying to settle in, to settle his thoughts, wondering if it had really only been a couple of hours ago that he'd been fiddling with mechanics and minding his own business.

Situations used to go his way more often than they seemed to be lately. In some ways it had been simpler when it was just him and Groot, hunting bounties, hopping planets. Basically doing what they wanted and trying not to get caught. Which, granted, was pretty similar to what they did now, only with a bit more philanthropy thrown in the mix. But since his list of comrades had quadrupled, it made certain things more complicated. On the one hand, he had more people to trust. And he _did_ trust them, the lot of them, at least as much as he was able to trust anyone. Probably even as much as he trusted Groot, or close to that.

On the other hand, he also had more people to disagree with. Things got pretty scrappy sometimes—they were all overqualified when it came to being a bunch of a-holes. And when you lived together, it didn't take much for the hackles to come up. The  _Milano_ wasn't that roomy; there was nowhere to escape from each other. Eventually, inevitably, one or another or all of them were destined to butt heads. Take Quill for instance: it was his ship, so he tended to take the lead on most things. He basically was their leader now. Self-proclaimed _Star-Lord_. And Rocket might mock that, but he also respected Quill, and usually he didn't have a problem tolerating the human's pretenses. Except for when Quill got cocky, and talked down to him, and didn't listen.

Kind of like tonight.

Rocket turned over again. Through the curtain he could see Groot silhouetted by the doorway, breathing gently. And from the opposite wall, folded up on the pallet Groot had been softhearted enough to give her, came a phosphorescent glow that interrupted the darkness of the space. Like a damn nightlight.


	2. Chapter 2

Lux awoke to the high-pitched keening of metal connecting with metal. For a brief moment she failed to recognize her surroundings—all beat-up equipment and metal plates—until she tried to rub her eyes and found her hands tied together. Blinking through the grit, she raised herself up on her elbows and noted that softer binds or not, her wrists weren't feeling particularly pampered right about now, and one of her legs was asleep and cramping. Maybe Groot would remove the restraints today. She just needed to prove to him and the rest of them that she wasn't looking for trouble.

Easier said than done.

In the middle of the room Rocket sat hunched over amid scattered tools and parts, chiseling away at something, his back to her. Unfortunately Groot was nowhere in sight.

 _There goes my buffer,_ she thought. The strange being had shown her enough compassion last night to give her reason to hope he would lessen the tension between her and Rocket this morning. So much for that. With a grunt she moved fully upright and loosed a yawn.

"What's the project."

His chisel froze mid-tap as he stiffened at the sound of her voice. But then he resumed working and said nothing. It was as if she hadn't spoken. 

"So that's how it's going to be." When he still didn't respond, she persisted, "Where's Groot?"

This time he twisted around and glared at her. "He left before you could start running your mouth."

"Because it couldn't have been on account of your agreeable disposition," she shot back dryly.

"Damn right. You're currently looking at a _picture_ of easygoing charm." With one finger, he drew an invisible circle around his face. "Consider yourself lucky. And that's only one out of a world of reasons for you not to push that luck."

"...What are some of the other reasons?"

She was baiting him. Waiting with an amused glint in her eye to see what he'd do. Rocket let his eyelids sink shut and told himself to breathe. Just breathe, and try to keep from visualizing shoving her into free space. If she wanted to get under his skin, well. Two could play at that game.

"You asked what I'm doing," going back to her first question. He held up one of the disks from the night before, well on its way to being butterflied by his delicate persistence. "Surgery."

Lux lurched forward instinctively, all mischief disappearing. "Those aren't yours to disassemble!"

"I'm not disassembling them. I'm pryin' 'em in half to get a good look at the guts. And yes they _are_ mine—they're mine to do whatever the hell I want with. Call it my prize for surviving electrocution."

"Doesn't seem like you want to survive it long," she said skeptically. "Perhaps you're pushing _your_ luck."

He frowned, not understanding her implication. "What, is that some kind of passive-aggressive threat?"

"The only threat right now is the one you're probing," she pointed at the disk. "Uninformed contact with the inner workings isn't advisable. Or contact with the shell for that matter." She sat back on her heels, folding her arms across her chest. "As you well know."

At that, he felt his barely contained frustration begin to simmer into something of the anger he had tried to curb from the night before. His lip curling. The familiar bristling of his fur. It took most of his willpower not to relaunch himself at her, knowing that this time he wouldn't be stopped short of the goal by an unexpected shock.

But he inhaled again, slowly, instead saying in a low warning tone, "If you think I've forgiven-and-forgotten about last night, you're dead wrong. And if you value the privilege of keeping your boots on something solid, you won't bring it back up. Besides," scoffing and turning his back to her, "this is a silicoated microwedge and I know what I'm doing."

For a long moment Lux was silent, though Rocket could feel her observing him behind his back. Sure enough, she soon said coolly, "There's a simpler way."

Now she was going to tell the screwdriver how to drive a screw? He whirled back around. "You know what, just shut up. I don't need your superior attitude and smart-ass comments foulin' up the air in here."

"I am _Groot?_ "

Glancing up, they saw that the tree-being had stopped halfway into the armory. He was noting the tension between the two of them, a deep furrow carved between his eyes.

Rocket planted his hands on his hips. "No, we're not fighting, this is obviously friendly banter... What do you think, idiot? Learn some nuance, for crying out loud."

_"I am Groot."_

"Yeah yeah, okay... Don't be so sensitive," he said, wiping his paws off on an equally filthy rag. "And _y_ _ou_ can bring her. I'm done with guard duty for the foreseeable future."

"What's happening?" Lux said.

"I am Groot."

She looked blankly back to Rocket for a translation.

He rolled his eyes and snapped, "Breakfast."

 

* * *

 

Groot had removed all but a grouping of vines around one of her wrists, leaving a long portion trailing away that he now held in his hand for a lead. Lux might object to being escorted like a domestic animal, but really anything was better than being bound hand _and_ foot. At least now she could move around. Her legs tingled all over as she walked side-by-side with Groot back to the common area of the ship, Rocket already out of sight ahead of them.

They approached the central room to the tinny sounds of cookware, a strange medley of smells and the din of voices speaking in quick succession. By the way the conversation rapidly died out when they entered, it was obvious that she had been the hot topic. They glanced up at her, too quickly.

"Lux," Quill said, feigning innocence. "Have a seat."

"You've been discussing my fate."

"That...is possible," he said.

"It is more than possible. It is perfectly accurate," Drax corrected.

Quill scratched the back of his head.

"Yes, we were talking about our current situation, and how to proceed," Gamora rolled her eyes. She slid a plate of food across to Lux, who inspected it only minimally before beginning to rake it in, abandoning both preference and etiquette in her hunger.

"And how will that be," she said between mouthfuls.

"Not entirely sure yet. There's Kryon coming up soon, but that's not really a dropbox kind of planet," Quill said. "And that probably wouldn't be the best approach anyway."

Lux paused, her fork suspended between plate and mouth. "You were considering...just dumping me?"

"You make it sound like a bad date."

"What?" She shook her head. "What I mean is that I wouldn't object to simply being dropped off somewhere. If we could just dismiss this entire...episode."

Rocket replaced his mug on the table with enthusiasm. "Not likely."

"I haven't said for sure that—" Quill said.

"Look Quill, you got your way last night. No 'death by swift kick out the airlock' or whatever." He spat to one side, still resentful. "But I've got a low tolerance for people who try to kill me, then try to get off clean on top of it. And seein' as how _I'm_ the one whose insides she scrambled like an egg, I'm thinking I should get more say in the matter—thanks by the way, for being so concerned last night. And now we're 'considering' letting her off the hook? Well I'm sure as hell not. All this dump-and-run talk is ridiculous. _Please_ tell me you can see that." He flung up his hands and faced Groot. "All these speeches, _damn_. Am I getting through to any of you? Feels like I'm tryin' to explain metaphors to hamhead over here."

"What are you suggesting?" Drax said.

"I say we bring her to justice," jabbing a finger on the table for emphasis. "She said herself this ain't the first ship she's hitched a ride on; we'd be doing a bunch of future shmucks a favor by turning her in."

Gamora frowned in thought. "That would mean the Nova Corps. They're virtually the only entity in intergalactic law enforcement that are actually ethical in regard to their penal system."

Rocket smirked at that last bit despite himself.

"Refrain from commenting," Gamora put up a hand with a shake of her head. "This is what I get for living exclusively with males."

"I wasn't gonna say nothing!" He turned to Quill. "If that's what it takes, fine. Nova Corp. Done."

" _I am Groot.._."

"Don't talk to me about hypocrisy! Past is _past._ "

Briefly there was a pause, and Rocket's gaze ricocheted around the table as if the rest of them had understand that exchange. But of course they hadn't. "Go photosynthesize or something," he muttered self-consciously to Groot out of the side of his mouth.

To their credit, his teammates didn't ask questions.

"We're already headed in the right direction." Quill mused. "But we're still at least three days out from Xandar." He focused on Lux, who had finished her meal and zoned in on him at the planet's mention.

"You'd be tried in a court under the Nova Corps, the Xandarians' federal division. It'd be a fair trial; Nova Corps are a lot of things, but they're not corrupt. ...For the most part," he amended, considering his brief stint in the Kyln. "You ever heard of them?"

During the last minute, her face had taken on an odd pallor, washing out the markings somewhat. But she said dispassionately, "Once or twice. Xandar is a hub-planet of sorts, correct? They get a fair amount of intergalactic traffic?"

"You won't be jumpin' any more rides, so don't worry about it." Rocket said.

"I only wondered if they're likely to treat off-worlders differently than their own," she said evenly. "You say their justice system is above-board, but I've been on more than one planet whose leaders allowed racial prejudice to color their verdict of the accused." Rotating her head, she allowed the overhead lights to cycle over her tattoos, as something akin to bitterness flitted across her features. "Most people dislike _different_. No matter how bizarre the appearance or customs of their own race. But I find that you encounter that thinking much less often on planets populated by diverse species. There's greater equality."

Drax crossed his arms. "You speak from experience. To how many worlds have you traveled?"

Again, they were presented with that thoughtful tilt of her head.  _Annoying_ tilt,Rocket silently amended.

"An uncalculated number... I haven't bothered to keep track. Not enough, though. Not enough worlds yet," drawing her dark brows together. "And you?" She asked after a pause, shifting the question to Quill. "This ship looks well-traveled."

"Oh yeah. She's seen plenty of worlds, plenty of stars. Got enough beauty marks to show for it too."

"Enough dings and defective parts to show for it," Rocket groused.

"That's _character_ ," Quill said, automatically going on the offensive when anyone badmouthed his baby.

"That's _neglect_ ," Gamora said. "Speaking of which, who's on kitchen detail this week?"

Drax mumbled unintelligibly.

"What?"

"I am," he muttered again.

"Fine," she said, standing. "Judging by the current state of the galley, you may want to begin immediately."

"This scheduled drudgery is most irksome, Gamora," Drax crossed his arms. "What is the purpose of cleaning after every meal?"

"You and I both know that _no one here_ ever cleans after every meal, even though they're supposed to. That's why we rarely have anything sanitary to eat from when we need it."

"I still do not see—"

"We need clean plates, Drax."

He averted his eyes and continued muttering under his breath.

"I'll help you."

All commotion immediately drained from the room as everyone regarded Lux as if she'd grown another head, which wasn't even possible for someone of her species. She returned their varying degrees of surprise and suspicion with a measured nod.

"You have misgivings about allowing me. I'd expect nothing less. _What does she hope to achieve by this? What if she gets her hands on the biggest knife in the drawer?_ But I assure you, I have no intention of attempting anything underhanded."

"The biggest knife is not in a drawer. It is on my person. And I would cut your hand off before you could reach for it," Drax said.

"Fair enough," she blinked. "But I'm on a short leash," displaying her wrist, still connected to Groot. "And what else is there for me to do until we reach port? Nothing. Except sit on the floor and time how long it takes Rocket to dissect my weaponry."

" _My_ weaponry," Rocket said.

"I'm liable to go insane, and the last thing you want is an insane Pyluuran on your hands. If you let me help, I'll at least get a change of scenery."

Quill ran a hand through his curly mop. "Well, I don't know... Groot?"

When Groot readily agreed, Quill turned to Rocket. "What do you think? ...I'll let you have final say."

"Oh, you'll _let_ me? Gee thanks Star-Prince, I'm honored, really."

"Rocket come on, seriously."

"Well it's true she's not good for much other than a glorified glowstick," Rocket begrudged. "Might as well put her to work."

"Then I accept your offer of help," Drax said, then pointed to one of the knives strapped to his calves. "Only remember what I have said. I was not joking."

Rocket snorted. "You don't know how."

Lux just eyed Drax warily and said, "Understood."

 

* * *

 

Leaving Groot and Drax to monitor any potential problems in the kitchen, Rocket headed back to the armory alone. He'd been serious in telling Groot he was off of guard duty. Now she was their headache, at least temporarily.

It seemed Quill had been eager enough to hand Rocket an executive decision, no doubt hoping to smooth things out after Rocket had sent him on a guilt trip over neglecting to check on him, post-electrocution attempt. Quill was a big fan of the almighty quick-fix, but honestly, he ought to know by now that Rocket couldn't be charmed into or out of something like a spaceport floozie. And it wasn't even that Rocket needed his concern. It was that Quill should've given it. He hadn't even asked if he was okay, not once. None of them had. They'd probably just assumed he was fine because he was mobile, and furious—otherwise they'd been too wrapped up in _the glow._

Rocket roughly rubbed his dry, tired eyes. Last night he hadn't slept at all. It had been impossible around the pain pulsing through his body like a second heartbeat and the person who had caused it lying just meters away from him, resting while he suffered. But this morning, his energy was so depleted he'd found he didn't have any to spare on actively despising her. So he had decided that today he would just...tolerate her. Which was fairly easy to do since at the moment he had palmed her off on the others. In any case, he would be permanently rid of her soon enough, once they reached Xandar.

When he'd settled back into an empty circle in the blast zone of parts on the floor, he took up the partially opened disk and tried to resume chiseling. But it quickly became apparent that he wasn't going to accomplish much. Not once the tremors started up again.

Little shivers started at his spine and moved down his arms and wrists to set his hands shaking fitfully. This wasn't the first time; it had initially happened sometime last night. It had freaked him out so much he'd almost woken Groot, but had changed his mind when it soon began to fade. But then it happened again earlier this morning. He'd found he could do some things without incident, like picking something up, or flipping someone off. But precision work? Forget about it. His clever paws, which were one of the best things about him, were betraying him. This time yesterday he could've built a basic bomb from scratch in thirty seconds flat. Now he had frickin jazz hands.

Stubbornly he kept tapping away at the disk. Minutes passed. An hour. His quality of work was pitiful, true, but he managed to widen the fissure significantly until, with a spastic twitch of his fingers, he drove the wedge in too deep. Once it made contact with the inner mechanism, that was it. The disk spewed a shower of sparks through the gap, flickered, then died, lying scorched and impotent in his awkward paws.

 _Damn_ it.

He slung it across the room in impatience. Maybe with more exactness, his theory would've worked. But now he'd wasted one disk and only had a few left—yet another item to add to the pile of crappy events in his recent history. He had all this frustration simmering just beneath the surface and no way to diffuse it.

Rocket knew what his problem was, or strongly suspected. When Lux threw that disk, it had been activated and then made contact with his body, which would have already been bad enough. But when it landed, it must have latched squarely onto to one of the metallic caps on his implants. Which was why he was currently operating like a short-circuiting robot. His cybernetics were designed to withstand electrical shock, sure, but not for long, not when hooked directly to a power source. That tiny piece of metal had wreaked havoc on his system, and the fact that he didn't know the extent of the injury bothered him more than he'd like to admit. He couldn't exactly open himself up like an airlock panel and replace a couple of parts, not that they'd be possible to replace anyway. They didn't make parts like his anymore. He smiled grimly. There really wasn't anything like him, except him.

In an attempt to steady his trembling, he folded his hands under his arms, pinning them tight to his chest. Everything hurt, and he wasn't about to start in on another of Lux's weapons of _ass_ destruction right now. Checking the clock, he figured he'd been at it for long enough. If Groot was done in the kitchen, Rocket would see if he'd have an idea of how to approach the problem. Perversely, he wanted to solve those disks. And he _needed_ to solve himself. The sooner, the better.

 

* * *

 

Rocket scented it immediately upon entering the corridor. Something strangely sweet was wafting through the ship, coming from the kitchen. Instinctively, he paused at the doorway to the galley and poked just his head around the corner.

Drax's hulking form was hovering over the dish of whatever Rocket was currently smelling. Frowning in concentration, he carefully drizzled on a dark amber sauce per Lux's instruction. She was propped against a counter, licking a large serving spoon, the same sauce smeared around her face. Meanwhile Groot's face was completely obscured by a mixing bowl which, based on the sounds echoing from inside it, he was vigorously cleaning with his tongue.

...They called _this_ kitchen detail?

Drax noticed him first, appearing slightly disgraced to have been caught in what he probably considered to be a compromising position. But after sucking clean a dripping finger, the corners of his mouth visibly lifted.

"Rocket! Come and sample what we have created."

"What the hell is it?"

"Baklaa. It's a sweet dish. You actually had most of the ingredients," Lux said. "We had to improvise on two or three of them, but I think the result was a success."

"Except perhaps for the star yarrow," Drax was dubious. "I still strongly doubt your judgement in adding that."

"Star yarrow? That stuff's so tangy it'll turn your tongue inside out. You put that in a dessert?" Rocket said.

"Its flavor corresponded the closest to a Pyluuran herb that we needed."

"You're just eating anything she throws together? You could be poisoned! Ever think of that?" He fixed Drax with an accusatory glare.

"There has been no foul play. Lux instructed us what to do, but I have been responsible for the addition of every ingredient."

"She could've slipped something in."

"No," she sighed, using the spoon to point to her other arm. She was still attached by the wrist to Groot.

At that point Groot removed the bowl from his head and chimed in.

"Groot approves of the dish," she said.

"He can't tell sugar from salt, he's a tree." Rocket walked over and kicked him lightly in the leg. "Stop eating that, moron. You'll get sick."

Surfacing, Groot growled impassively at him before inserting his face into the bowl again.

Lux chuckled briefly. It was a warm, husky sound, like slow-simmering honey. "Well he said he liked it earlier."

"How do _you_ know what he said? You're making that up."

"It wasn't hard to decipher."

"He merely said, 'I am Groot,' as usual," Drax argued.

"He was grinning and reaching for more. It was obvious."

Rocket kicked Groot again to get his attention. "You told her you liked it?"

The bowl nodded.

"Whatever," Rocket said. "He barely has taste buds. Anyway, least the kitchen's clean. _You_ look like you've been dragged through the mud. All three of you."

Briefly Lux glanced down at herself. Rocket's description wasn't far off. She had food stains polka-dotting her clothes and sticky patches of sauce plastered to her face and matted in her hair. It was almost comical, how grubby she'd gotten. Plus she was covered in whatever dirt and grime she'd accumulated while catching all those rides through space. Rocket knew a life like that didn't lend itself to too many showers. And at the moment, Groot and Drax weren't in much better shape.

Flexing his broad shoulders, Drax said, "Yes, our kitchen duties are complete. Even Gamora cannot deny its cleanliness."

"...We made an improvement," Lux allowed. "Try some baklaa, Rocket."

Reflexively, he scowled and turned it down. "I'm more interested in gettin' the pack of you cleaned off with a pressure hose before you track any of _that_ into my work area."

 

* * *

 

After Drax and Groot had scrubbed off their dessert, and after checking with Quill, Lux was given access to the one shared bathroom. She was loaned a pair of Gamora's pants and an old t-shirt of Quill's to wear while her own clothes were being washed, a task which Groot had readily volunteered to do.

Eventually she emerged from the shower, the shirt hanging halfway down her thighs and the pant legs rolled a few times at the hem, because while Lux was petite like Gamora, she was also significantly shorter. Overall, her appearance had improved. Her skin was clear and illuminated in the dim lighting, and she'd put up her damp hair into a braided crown that loosely circled her head.

"You clean up pretty good," Quill said, standing guard with Groot outside the bathroom door. Rocket had disappeared again, and Drax and Gamora had already turned in for the day. It was still fairly early, but no one had gotten much rest lately and everyone was more than willing to call it a night.

"Well enough. Thanks for the change of clothes." She gestured to the picture printed on the fabric. "Who are _The Runaways_?"

"Just one of the most kick-ass bands ever," Quill said.

"Bands?"

"Yeah. Bands," he demonstrated with an air-guitar riff. "They play music?"

"Oh. So they aren't actually runaways?"

"Um, not as far as I know."

An awkward silence stretched between them as she seemed to contemplate this.

"I see."

Quill scratched the back of his head. "Okay. Well no offense, but Groot's gonna take you to the back again. But Drax put a mattress in there for you, so you won't have to sleep on the floor anymore. The _Milano_ has four bunks, but only me, Gamora and Drax use them. The other one's always empty cause Rocket has a bed in the back, and Groot here usually falls asleep wherever he gets tired. So you get the extra mattress."

Lux laughed a little. "Yes, I'm highly offended by this."

At that he just grinned and said goodnight to the two of them. However, Lux didn't miss the little backwards nod he gave Groot that still said, _"Keep an eye on her."_

Sheepishly, Groot threaded new vines around her wrist, shrugging a bit in apology.

"You don't have to apologize. I get it. I can't be trusted," she said, not unkindly.

But he shook his head, the same look of sadness clouding his features as the night before.

She was still trying to interpret that expression when Groot's hand darted out suddenly in front of her face, palm open and facing upward. She started and stepped back, bumping up against the wall. Guiltily he withdrew, until he saw she had realized he hadn't meant any harm. Then, more cautiously, he extended his hand again.

A bright green stem sprouted from the center, growing taller and blooming gently at the top before her eyes, its petals the same shade of violet. Groot smiled at her kindly, almost bashfully. Plucking it, he offered it to her.

_"I. Am. Groot."_

She accepted it slowly, as she had accepted the blanket the night before, though this time with wonderment.

When she met his gaze again, he seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to convey. So straightening, he made sure of her attention and wordlessly asked her to track with him.

Staring intently down the corridor, his eyes followed the lights lining a path along the floor, all the way to a collection of red bulbs outlining a doorway. Lux realized that this was the same hallway that led back to the airlock. Then he sent a collection of rough vines—like the ones he'd used to apprehend her—growing from his other hand to pile on the floor at his feet. Groot faced her again, shaking his head slowly, and sighed.

Regret. He was showing her regret.

_"I. Am. Groot."_

Lux held Groot's flower to her nose and breathed deeply through the petals, her head tilting to one side as she was abruptly flooded with several emotions at once. In the end, she couldn't say much. So she just told him, "All is forgiven," and, "you couldn't have known."

 

* * *

 

If Rocket had expected any clever repartee when Lux returned, he hadn't gotten any. Groot had escorted her quietly to her bed and taken a seat close by, still attached to her at the wrist. They were both asleep within minutes. Talking things over with Groot would have to wait till tomorrow.

Groot appeared to accept Lux easily enough. Maybe too easily. In fact he seemed to like her, a fact which smelled suspiciously like a form of betrayal to Rocket. Whose side was Groot on, anyway? Maybe Lux had bewitched him. Hell, she even had Drax-the-frickin-Destroyer  _baking_. If that wasn't dark magic at work, he didn't know what was.

She was hard to pin. Rocket found that the more he observed her, the more he couldn't tell if she was a threat or not. It could be that her cooperative behavior was just a mask for an ulterior motive, for some plan she was waiting to put into action. Maybe she meant them harm. Well, _further_ harm. Or maybe she really was just a stowaway, plain and simple. Maybe he was completely overthinking the whole thing.

Bottom line was, he didn't know _what_ to think about her, and that wasn't sitting easy with him. His talents lay in analyzing a situation and then using whatever shit he had on hand to solve it, usually by blowing something up. Figuring out a prison break? No sweat. But figuring out _people?_ That was another skill set entirely. As a rule, Rocket preferred to avoid overly complicated relationships, which turned out to be _most_ relationships. It was a miracle to begin with that he and Groot had bonded, let alone that he was now one of a team of five. But they were the exception.

The thing was, with people there were too many unknown factors, too much caprice, too many.........emotions involved. Too much unpredictability. Lux certainly qualified for all of the above. He couldn't figure out if she was messing with him on purpose, or if she was just naturally provocative. With a wry snort, he thought of Quill's mantra and silently agreed.

_Bit of both._

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory apologies for the delay in posting. Some Life happened, as Life will do, which distracted from fic-writing. But some obsessive outlining also happened, and I'm now properly set up for future chapters and freshly excited about where all this is heading.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, gave kudos, and commented on Chapter 1. Keep that feedback coming!
> 
>  
> 
> **EDIT: I am on hiatus. I still love this fic and plan to finish it, but it will be in my own time. Clearly. If you liked the first two chapters then I encourage you to subscribe, because I WILL get back around to this baby. Thanks for reading! ******


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